


Oasis Abandon

by fioreofthemarch



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Weddings, a gift of nightshade quest, gerudo desert - Freeform, postgame, southern oasis, zelink fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fioreofthemarch/pseuds/fioreofthemarch
Summary: At the behest of Chief Riju, Link and Zelda attend a Gerudo wedding at the Southern Oasis, complete with appropriate Gerudo garb. Taking the evening to enjoy each others companionship, they share stories, sneak a little wine, and give in to abandon..





	Oasis Abandon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliceKnowsTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceKnowsTime/gifts).



> You can follow me on Tumblr [here](rachaeltad-writes.tumblr.com).

The note is written in a crisp and prim hand, the ink a rich earthy brown and the parchment smelling of cinnamon and spice.

 _Champion. Princess_ , it reads. _For your aid in protecting Vah Naboris, Chief Riju invites you to attend the wedding of her advisor, Perda, to be held at the Southern Oasis. You will attend as the Chief’s honoured guests. Please find the appropriate Gerudo attire enclosed. Buliara._

Link takes a moment to process the note. Wedding? Gerudo attire? He eyes the large parcel sitting on the table with some reservation. Their trip to Gerudo Desert was meant to be routine; meet with Lady Riju, check on Vah Naboris, maybe race a sand-seal or two. Link checks the date of the wedding and sees that it won’t interfere with their work, and, his curiosity getting the better of him, unravels the fine twine that secures the parcel.

As expected, all he finds inside are two neat sets of Gerudo clothes. For him, a sand-coloured pair of voe trousers with cerulean patterned swirls, a low-cut plain cotton shirt and a long golden robe, the likeness of the guardian spirit of Dinrael embroidered across one shoulder. Then Link looks over the garb meant for Zelda, and his eyes go wide.

A little breathless, his eyes take in the fine fabrics, the shimmering embroidery and the sharp lines of the seams that make up Zelda’s Gerudo attire. _She’s going to wear this_ , he thinks, eyes losing focus for half a heartbeat as he feels a thrum of affectionate warmth in his stomach, and perhaps somewhere deeper still. Biting his lip, a little embarrassed and feeling like he’s seen something untoward, Link wraps up the parcel once again.

“Zelda!” he calls, and like a star appearing against the night sky she’s there in the room with him. She was out on the balcony of their apartments in Gerudo Town, poring over a book and sipping iced hydromelon tea. But at his call she comes readily, happily even, to his side -- something that still makes Link’s breath catch.

“Yes, Link?” she says as she steps into the solar. Link steadies himself against the table; suddenly the pervading desert heat feels a little hotter.

He motions to the parcel and to the note, and it takes only a moment for Zelda to scan Buliara’s letter, her face lighting up. “Oh my -- Link!” she beams, hands clutching excitedly at the note, the paper crinkling in her grip. “A wedding! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Link is speechless, content to marvel at her enthusiasm. Her happiness is a rarity, he’s realised lately; a seam in the stone that he feels he’ll spend his life chasing.

“What?” she goads, sensing his hesitation, fingers teasingly pinching his arm. “Not a fan of weddings?”

Link pouts. “How would I know?” he shrugs, a wry smile curling on his lips. “Don’t know if I’ve ever been to one.”

“Well, now is the time!” Zelda half-sings, clutching the note to her chest, emerald eyes sparkling as she half skips back to the balcony. “ _I’m so excited!”_

Watching her go, Link allows himself to admit: _I am too._

* * *

The clothes are bespoke, made exactly to their measurements, and Link almost feels as though his are a little worn in; the mark of expert Gerudo tailoring.

And Zelda looks… _incredible,_ better than he could have imagined. Better than he could have ever guessed from seeing the clothes folded and flat in the parcel, as beautiful as they looked even then.

She emerges from her room in their apartments a genuine goddess; a lofty chemise hangs from her shoulders, secured simply by a golden cord around her neck, an embroidered vine of wildberry flowers running the length of the hem. The blouse ripples as she walks, revealing hints of bare skin; the curve of her waist, the small of her back. They’ve given her a pair of golden sandals too, capping simple grey trousers, form fitting and comfortable, suitable for the desert. She’s coiled her golden hair into a snaking braid that wraps around her crown, revealing her slender neck, and Zelda grins when she notices Link staring, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“It suits you. I should take a picture,” she says, and when Link merely blinks at her awkwardly, she approaches and thumbs the fabric of his golden robe. “The outfit, Link.”

“Oh! Uh,” he stammers. “Yeah. Well. You too.”

Zelda just smiles, unphased, taking another moment to test the fabric of his robe between her fingers. _Just say it, Hero_ , he tells himself. But he knows that _she_ knows what he’s thinking, and decides that some things are sweeter left unsaid, spoken with the eyes rather than words.

“You ready?” he asks, reaching up and brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face.

She nods, excitement dancing on her features. “ _So_ ready.”

The journey into the desert takes the better part of the morning; the parties depart just after siesta, carried by mules and horses, by litters, by their own feet as they cross the sands. Zelda rides a sturdy mule that Link leads on foot, and the wedding party arrives at the oasis just as the afternoon light is beginning to wane.

The guests -- mostly Gerudo and a smattering of awestruck looking Hylians -- crowd around a small dais at the edge of the oasis. They soon part when Lady Riju is announced, making way for the little Chief to sit in the velvet chair set aside just for her. Riju casually laughs off their bows and mutterings of reverence, but she takes her place all the same.

Then Link spies the groom-to-be by the dais, a sheepish Hylian man wearing garb not too dissimilar from Link’s, although he notices a small clipping of blue nightshade pinned to the man’s lapel. And then he remembers; he’s met this Hylian, and he’s met the Gerudo bride. It was atop Tuft Mountain in southern Faron, by a heart-shaped pond, where the pair had exchanged a blue nightshade -- a shared favourite flower, a single link to bind them.

Link is quietly aware of Zelda’s presence at his side. She’s wrapped a pinky around his while they wait, a simple and unseen gesture of affection, and he wonders; _what is it that binds_ us _?_ He’s been too afraid to say it, the words he knows he feels, the ones he _can’t stop_ feeling, and he knows that saying them should be as simple as exchanging flowers. But somehow it isn’t. Link swallows his worry and watches the wedding unfold.

* * *

The ceremony itself is nothing special; a bride in white, a groom in gold, and an old Gerudo vai as their priest. But under the sparkling stars and deep purple sky, surrounded by happy faces and at the side of the Princess, Link finds that the wedding stirs something in him that he didn’t know was there. Something _romantic_ , something sappy and slightly embarrassing. As he watches the bride and groom stand hand in hand, reciting vows such as _to love and cherish_ and _to have and to hold_ , he cannot help but _weep --_ actual tears that he struggles to hide, and in his periphery he hears Zelda giggling at him. He elbows her petulantly, and as a silent apology she hands him a handkerchief, whispering, _“I see you’re a fan of weddings after all.”_

* * *

After the vows is when the real celebration begins. Before the sun has fully set, Perda’s wedding party set up no less than five buffet tables, ten kegs of a staunch ale all the way from Hateno, and perhaps twice as many bottles of Gerudo wildwine on top of that. Ornate red lanterns hang from the palm trees, with streamers of white and gold strung between them. There’s a Goron band already set about playing a series of rambunctious and toe-tapping tunes, but even they are drowned out by the raucous chatter and laughter that soon fills the oasis.

Despite being somewhat absurdly ‘too young’, Link and Zelda each sneak cups of wildwine, sitting by the pond in a contented silence as they watch the celebrations. The wine is sweet, with a sting that makes Link both delight and wince at the thought of having more.

“Oh, mine’s empty,” Zelda hums. She plucks Link’s cup from his hand, “Off to get more then!” and she’s up on her feet before Link can even look her way.

“Hey, hey!” he calls after her, jumping up to chase her, startled by the sudden dizziness that envelops him. He nearly trips, the air around his head thick as he tries to steady himself. By the time he stumbles through the crowd to catch Zelda, she has another two cups in hand.

“All yours, Hero,” she grins crookedly, handing him the golden cup. _I shouldn’t_ , he wants to say, but his hands take the cup and somehow the wine is already at his lips.

“How’d you even--” he asks between sips as they sneak away.  

“Get another?” Zelda shrugs. “Benefits of no one recognising me here, I guess. Perhaps I simply _look_ old enough.” Zelda giggles again, and Link wonders if he’s ever heard anything sweeter.

The second cup is finished quicker than the first, and Link finds himself joining in whenever Zelda begins to laugh, her giggles -- her every movement, in fact -- simply _infectious_. They circle the party, chatting with Gerudo and Hylian alike, trading stories of the road and of the newly reborn Castle Town. Lady Riju is particularly interested in the restorations, and for almost an hour the trio discuss further rebuilds that could take place in Hyrule, and the help the Gerudo could offer.

Afterwards, Link and Zelda snap photos with the Sheikah Slate -- some of the guests, some of each other, and some of both of them together, arms outstretched and faces pressed in close. A third cup goes down without so much as a mention, and Link feels his blood thrumming in his veins, his fingers tapping to a lively rhythm only he can feel. He’s never felt so _happy_ , so _uninhibited_ , and he sees it on Zelda’s face too. If he could always have this he would never need anything else.

Halfway into the night, Zelda’s face suddenly lights up. “I know this song! No, I _love_ this song!”

She intertwines her fingers in Link’s, and bows politely to the Gerudo merchant they had been talking to. “If you’ll excuse us,” she says, and all but drags Link towards the band.

“No, Zelda, wait--” Link tries.

“Relax!” Zelda huffs. “ _Dance_ with me!” and Link can do nothing but oblige her. Zelda pulls them through twirls and turns across the crowded dance floor, and more than once they bump into one of the other dancing guests.

“I don’t know a thing about dancing,” Link admits once the music slows, and their stumbling steps with it.

“You know, neither do I,” Zelda laughs. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in close. Link’s hands gingerly circle her waist, fingers tracing along the softness of her bare skin.

“I’d learn for you, though,” he croons without thinking, the richness of it making his voice sound like a stranger’s. “Maybe I’d even enjoy it.”

Zelda grins wildly, colour flooding her cheeks. “ _You_ are such a tease.”

“Is that okay with you?”

Her eyes find his, her features softening, and Link feels examined, scrutinised. But then, so gentle he almost can’t hear, she says, “Yes. Of course.” And then, affectionately: “Always.”

Midnight comes and goes, but the party does not slow down. They dance until they both ache, and after that they whittle away the hours tasting treats from the dessert table and playing with the Sheikah Slate. A fourth cup is poured and enjoyed. Zelda discovers that they can use Magnesis to make a goblet appear to hover as if by magic, and the pair charm a group of Gerudo children with the story that Link is a sorcerer from a far-off land, his only power being the levitation of metal objects. But then one of the children spots Zelda hiding behind a nearby tree with the Slate in hand, and the illusion is broken.

“No fun!” one of the little girls complains. “We thought you had powers!”

“Perhaps I don’t, but my friend certainly does,” Link counters, gesturing over to Zelda.

“Can’t fool us, mister,” the girl stomps her feet, and waves at her friends to leave. “Nuh-uh!”

The Gerudo children shuffle away, and for a suspended moment Link and Zelda stare blankly at each other, faces frozen with disbelief. Link isn’t sure who laughs first, but soon they’re both hysterical, laughing so hard that Link is crying all over again.

The sun is almost risen by the time the party truly begins to wind down. With no wish to cross the desert until morning, Link and Zelda huddle together against a palm tree, Link’s golden robe draped around them to ward off the night chill. Zelda falls asleep quickly, snoring quietly against Link’s shoulder. Gently so as not to wake her, he pries the Sheikah Slate from her hands, and begins to flick through the photos of their evening together.

Four dozen in total; Link in his finery (not looking half bad), Zelda in hers (looking _stunning_ ), photos of the food (all gone now), photos of the guests (also all gone, but in a different, more drunken way) and at last photos of Link and Zelda together; smiling, and vibrant, and happy. Link lingers on these last pictures, wanting to somehow imprint them in his mind, to commit them to memory and never allow himself to forget.

“I love you,” he murmurs to the girl in the photo, and beside him, she begins to stir.

“Pardon?” Zelda says sleepily, blinking slowly up at him. “Did you say something, Link?”

Link runs a hand over the small of her back, and then cups the back of her head, gently ushering her back to sleep. “No, nothing,” he says softly. “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading/giving kudos/commenting! I really enjoyed writing this fic! 
> 
> If you are interested in more BOTW Zelink works by me, my main series' is [Champions and Beasts.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/747456)


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